


A Day in the Life

by paragraph (ebcdic)



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Best Friends, Grinding, Kissing, Lust, M/M, Pizza, Shopping Malls
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-17
Updated: 2017-11-17
Packaged: 2019-02-03 11:45:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12747666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ebcdic/pseuds/paragraph
Summary: At the mall, Patrick shuffles behind Pete, wondering how exactly he got roped into this.





	A Day in the Life

Patrick's cell is blaring something obnoxious at him very close to his ear. Seconds earlier, he had been in a blissful coma, so the fact that it is his cell and he should maybe answer it doesn't register. His hand flings out, hitting the offending piece of technology and sending it skittering to the floor, under a pile of laundry that he's been meaning to do since they got off tour, really. Murmuring happily to himself, Patrick slips back into sleep only to be woken up seconds later, or so it seems, by something hitting his bed. No, something bouncing on his bed. Cautiously, Patrick cracks one eye open and gets a blurry glimpse of tan skin and black ink between white cotton and denim. 

"You have approximately five seconds to stop that or I'm going to kill you," Patrick mumbles at the bouncing blur. 

The blur drops down into his lap, straddling his thighs, and comes into focus as Pete, who looks far more awake than anyone should be, ever. Patrick groans and throws a forearm over his eyes. Silently, he wills Pete to go away, but after thirty seconds, he's still there, his ass pressing uncomfortably into Patrick's bladder. Patrick half-heartedly shoves Pete away and manages to slide out from under him to the floor, at the same time. 

"What do you want?"

Only it comes out far more incoherent than Patrick wishes as he starts to crawl toward the bathroom. Coming off tour is always a bitch; it takes a week for his sleep cycle to adjust. Right now, his body is firmly telling him that he should still be in bed, recovering from the night before. Instead, he makes it to the bathroom and pulls himself up by the edge of the sink. His foot catches the door, slamming it shut, and effectively drowning out whatever Pete was going to say.

It isn't until after he's had coffee that Patrick starts to become fully aware that Pete is in his house. He blinks at Pete over the edge of the morning paper as whatever Pete was babbling about finally filters to his ears through the morning haze.

"…so, let's go shopping, okay?"

"Okay?" Patrick echoes in confusion.

"Great!" Pete grins. 

At the mall, Patrick shuffles behind Pete, wondering how exactly he got roped into this. Pete is weaving through racks, hoodie pulled up and shoulders slightly slumped in as though that would make him unrecognizable. He's also wearing a pair of sunglasses with bling on the sides that Patrick could've sworn he saw one of Pete's so-called girlfriends wearing three weeks previous. 

"Let's go upstairs," Pete declares after dismissing several racks of jeans on sight that looked perfectly fine to Patrick.

Patrick shrugs and heads up the escalator. As he does, he sees the sign indicating the layout of the store and notes that the only clothes upstairs are for women and children. He looks over his shoulder at Pete who is too busy chipping black nail polish off his finger nails to notice Patrick's questioning glance. 

Once they're off the escalator, Pete immediately heads into the Junior's Department. Patrick follows along slowly, his eyes staying on Pete's back until Pete suddenly turns and grabs a pair of jeans that Patrick is certain that no mere mortal can fit into. He holds them up at his hips and blinks at Patrick in askance.

"What do you think?"

Patrick is at a loss for words. "Umm…"

"You're right, I should try them on."

Pete grabs Patrick's hand and drags him toward a fitting room. Patrick would protest, but his throat seems to have constricted at that simple contact, which is a shame because his heart would like to leap out that way. It's not as though Pete hasn't touched him a million times before, but that was mainly onstage or in front of cameras. This is when they're trying to hide from the world, so it seems more private somehow than even being in their own homes. 

No one is in the fitting room when they get there and Pete waltzes right in like he wouldn't care if it was filled with teenage girls trying on prom dresses. He leads them into the dressing room furthest from the door and starts shucking his clothes before Patrick can even lock the door. Patrick sits down on the bench and tries very hard not to look in Pete's direction out of some strange sense of modesty that he shouldn't have after all the touring they've done together. 

Except that once Pete has the jeans on, he's right in front of Patrick's face, in front of the mirror, twisting this way and that, just begging for approval. Patrick tries to keep his eyes somewhere around the vicinity of Pete's knees, but when Pete turns away his eyes drift upward and take in the curve of Pete's ass, which is highly accentuated in the very skinny jeans. Patrick swallows hard and tries to tell himself that he has not just checked out his best friend. 

"What do you think?" Pete asks over his shoulder.

"They're… great." 

Patrick hates how his voice sort of breaks between the words, but if Pete notices, he doesn't say anything. He just dances slightly in front of the mirror with a grin. The dressing room suddenly seems like a sauna to Patrick. He tugs his cap down further over his eyes and slumps on the bench, hoping to hide the fact that he's getting turned on by Pete shimmying out of the jeans. Once Pete is back in his regular clothes, Patrick jumps up and tries to look like he's not running out. He throws something about going to the bathroom over his shoulder and heads in that direction, his heart beating faster and faster until he's sure he's going to pass out. 

Inside the bathroom, Patrick paces in front of the sinks and mutters to himself for a few seconds before washing his hands. When he exits, Pete is leaning against the wall with a bag from the store Patrick had fled from in his hands. Even under the tacky fluorescent lighting, Pete looks beautiful and Patrick finds himself wavering between touching him and walking past him without a word. Pete takes the decision away from him when he pushes off the wall and slings his arm around Patrick's shoulders. 

"I'm hungry. Wanna get some mall food?"

Patrick just nods, afraid that his voice will betray him again. Pete smiles and leads them to the food court, where he orders two slices of cheese pizza and pop without bothering to ask Patrick what he wants. At one of the plastic tables, Patrick picks the cheese off his pizza and only absently sips at his drink while watching Pete leisurely eat his food. When Pete licks away a bit of sauce off his lips, Patrick bites his lip so he won't groan. If Pete notices that Patrick is staring at him, he doesn't say a word. Then again, Patrick figures, Pete is probably used to people staring at him. 

"This shit is so greasy; it's like not even real Chicago pizza," Pete complains between bites.

"It's not even passable as New York Style," Patrick agrees. 

"New York Pizza isn't really pizza anyway. It's like grease on bread."

Patrick laughs. They've had this conversation many times before. "Remember that time we tried to order a stuffed pizza at that place off I-90 and they looked at us like we were nuts?"

"Yeah!" Pete exclaims. "And then the pizza was so greasy that it like bled through the box onto my jeans, man, when we were taking it back to the hotel."

"You were so pissed off and Andy was calling you a prissy bitch." 

"Which I totally wasn't."

Patrick hides a private smile. "Oh, no. Not at all."

Pete throws a balled up napkin at his head. "I saw that."

"Saw what?"

"Ouch!"

Patrick rubs his shin where Pete kicked him under the table. Pete gives him a smug grin.

"Watch it or I'll wipe that smile off your face, Peter."

"I'm so scared, Trick," Pete mocks with a roll of his eyes.

After waiting a few seconds, Patrick kicks Pete under the table and he stops smiling to wince in pain instead. 

"Told you."

Back at the house, Patrick is reminded of his attraction to Pete in the mall when Pete stretches out on the couch and his shirt rises up to reveal his tattoo. Patrick mentally chastises himself, hopes all thoughts of fucking Pete will go away, and pushes Pete's feet aside to sit down. Pete doesn't help things by immediately dropping his feet into Patrick's lap. 

"What do you want to do now?"

Patrick laughs. "I wanted to sleep, but someone woke me up to shop."

Pete sits up on his elbows and looks at Patrick through his lashes. "I could make it up to you."

"I really don't think you can turn back the clock, Pete," Patrick says while dismissing any possible implications to Pete's words.

"That wasn't what I meant." Pete kneads Patrick's thigh with his toes. "I saw how you were looking at me in the dressing room."

Patrick swallows down embarrassment, guilt and anger and tries not to blush. "How was that? Like you were a freak for buying skinny-ass jeans?"

"No…" Pete sits up all the way and is now nearly in Patrick's lap. "Like you wanted to fuck my hot ass after ripping off those jeans."

The frankness of Pete's words surprise Patrick. He blinks into Pete's eyes. "I…"

"I'd let you."

Pete's hand is around Patrick's neck now and his ass is pressing against Patrick's groin and Patrick really can't come up with a reason why they shouldn't do this. Still, this is Pete and Patrick is all too aware that this could be a practical joke, so he doesn't initiate anything. Instead, he just watches Pete's face. 

"Is that so?"

"Yeah." Pete sounds breathless. "Fuck me, Patrick."

The breathlessness almost sounds faked. No one really sounds like that outside of porn, right? 

"I'm not entirely convinced," Patrick says noncommittally.

One of Pete's hands slides up under his own shirt, revealing the strip of skin Patrick saw this morning. Patrick only dares to let himself look at it for a second before his eyes drift back up to meet Pete's, which are half-lidded now and watching his every move. The other hand grabs Patrick's and presses it to the fly of Pete's jeans. Patrick gasps involuntarily when he realizes that Pete is turned on.

"Does that do it for you, Trick?"

"Fuck."

Part of Patrick wants to remove his hand. The other part wants to do just as Pete suggested earlier. Instead, he shifts his hips up into Pete's ass while moving his hands to grasp Pete's hips. Pete falls forward slightly with a soft moan. The fringe of his bangs brushes up against Patrick's cheek and Patrick turns his head slightly to rub his face against Pete's like a cat. His fingers tighten on Pete as he tries to will himself to believe that this isn't some practical joke. Still, part of him is tense, waiting for any number of their friends to burst out of the front closet with a video camera. 

"You're sure this won't mess up anything?" Patrick finally asks when a few minutes have passed and no one has jumped out on them, but Pete hasn't done much more than rub against him.

Pete pulls back slightly and blinks. "Oh. Umm."

Internally, Patrick curses himself. Pete had been a whirling dervish all day; moving and not thinking past the moment, which did not happen as often as one might think. Now, Pete's eyes are narrowing in concentration as he contemplates Patrick's question. Patrick can almost hear the questions that Pete must be asking himself, most likely because they're the same questions floating through his head.

"We're like BFF, right?" Pete finally asks after what feels like a prolonged moment of torture.

"'Til the end," Patrick affirms without hesitation.

Pete chews on his lower lip. "Which would be?"

The question throws Patrick off. Does he lie and say death, which might not be the case? Or does he go for a more realistic approach? In his heart, he knows he'll always feel something for Pete, no matter what, even if something does come between them. 

"When we're both long gone."

The slight frown that had clouded Pete's face mushrooms into a grin. "I was hoping you would say that."

Patrick smiles back. "You're like a part of me."

It's perhaps more sappy than Patrick intended to be, but the moment seems to call for it. If the kiss Pete gives Patrick is any indication, he doesn't mind in the slightest. It's full of enthusiasm and joy. Patrick swears that he can taste love beneath the tang of the pizza sauce and when Pete grinds against him, Patrick doesn't hold back this time.


End file.
